Regarding a Certain Faker
by Daniel K. English
Summary: A collection of very short snippets about a certain magus in the island world of Claymore.
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

* * *

During the late August and early September of 2012, I had the inspiration to write a crossover between the _Fate/Stay Night_ series and the _Claymore _series. I wrote short snippets with this crossover. I decided to publish the snippets in this collection for others to enjoy. **These short snippets were originally posted in Gabriel Blessing's forum.** These snippets are in no particular order. **I may or may not add more snippets over time.**

The status of an actual crossover between these two series remains **unknown**.

I'll get to it eventually.

Enjoy,

D.K.E.

_(Updated 4.18.2013)_


	2. Hunted

**Hunted**

* * *

Shirou stared at their swords.

His inner world recorded the broadswords' structure, composition, and histories in an instant and stored them away deep in his soul. His mouth curled in a slight smile. The swords were all the same, but the experiences they offered were unique.

He could use experience.

The leader of the group spotted him among the patrons and approached his stool. The other men and women, sensing trouble, abandoned their drinks and hurried out of the tavern. No― trouble was common in such a place. They left because the silver eyed witches were more dangerous than even armed bandits. The owner too fled when one of the Claymore glared at him. Soon, only they and Shirou remained.

"Are you Emiya Shirou?" asked the leader.

The women in white were nothing to scoff at. Each of them had battled hundreds of yoma. They were many steps above the monsters he slew.

"Yes, I am him," answered Shirou. "Do you need something?"

"Baron Herman requests your audience. We will escort you to Sutafu."

Beneath his cloak, his muscles tensed for battle. He used several circuits to reinforce his body. Hundreds of swords readied from within Unlimited Blade Works. "Herman, you said. I don't like him. What if I refuse?"

The three other women reached for their swords.

"The Baron _insists_," said the leader.

The odor of decaying flesh only he could smell hung heavily in the tavern.

"Even so, I must refuse."

A brief moment passed when they fell silent. Then everything went to hell.

Several actions happened in a heartbeat. Shirou dove onto the floor before his stool turned into wooden scraps. A pair of curved blades materialized in his hands. He deflected the immediate follow-up attack of a subordinate Claymore before rolling away from another. He sprung to his feet and met the leader's overhead swing. They locked eyes as they fought to overpower the other.

"I thought you weren't allowed to harm humans," said Shirou.

"The Baron made you an exception."

Shirou reinforced his leg and kicked her away. She crashed through the tables and out the door. He had no time to breathe; the other three were upon him in an instant. When the leader rose from the rubble, the fight had moved outside. The gathered crowd watched with fascination and fear as Shirou fended off his opponents' swings with his Chinese swords. The leader picked up her sword and lunged.

Shirou smirked. He planted his feet on the ground and his hands blurred in an impossible speed. The leader's eyes widened when her sword was swatted aside with several sounds of steel. She and her comrades distanced themselves from him. Their arms were numb with the force that warded off their attacks.

"Flora. That was your Windcutter, was it not?" the leader asked one of her companions. A pretty one with curled, shoulder-length hair nodded. The leader watched Shirou, reevaluating her approach. "Helen. Keep him occupied."

The particularly rowdy-looking one charged with a grin plastered on her face. "Let's see what you can do, human!"

Before he could escape, Shirou found himself under attack again. Helen laughed when he responded to her blows with quick defenses. "So it's true! You can keep up with us!" Several veins on her face throbbed as she released her yokai. Her arm slackened like rubber before it lashed out, her sword acting like the blade of a kusarigama. "Let see how long you can go!"

Shirou threw her a glare as he avoided her sword. It bent and attacked from odd angles, aiming for his back and shoulders. The other Claymores' gasped when he slipped past Helen's attacks and struck her in the stomach with the flat of his sword. The wind knocked out of her, Helen staggered back to gather her defense but Shirou pressed his advantage and landed several more blows. She crashed into the ground beside her comrades.

The remaining three rushed him. He couldn't fend them off so easily.

He grit his teeth and ran, pumping as much od into his reinforced legs as he could. He felt a wind beside him and glanced to his left to find the leader had already caught up. His shock faded quickly.

It was obvious. He drew the experience from within Blade Works and―

"Wha―?" _Disappeared_.

* * *

_(Post #57 and #72)_


	3. Rigaldo, the Silver-Eyed Lion King

**Rigaldo, the Silver-Eyed Lion King**

* * *

Rigaldo stopped beside the decapitated head of a lizard-like Awakened Being. He rested his hand against the cold chitinous flesh, his senses confirming his comrade to be dead. Surveying the scene before him, he could not help but to feel admiration towards the women of this generation.

"We lost three. They've lost five. They're doing well considering the difference in strength. Five strong ones lead a squad. Each squad fights one enemy. Even under these conditions, they've found a way to survive." The gears turned in his head as he watched the warriors fight. He shut his eyes and smothered the pride bubbling in his stomach. When he opened them, his eyes were white and his pupils narrow.

"Unfortunately, we can't afford any more losses."

His yokai overflowed, and his figure transformed. The sound of muscles and bones snapping filled the air around him.

A mess of fur grew over his back, triceps and calves.

His digits sharpened into long claws.

His muscles thickened until he hunched forward naturally.

He was Rigaldo, the Silver-Eyed Lion King.

With a single leap, he sailed over the town and landed before a startled Veronica. His claws extended, and he struck to kill――

_My bone shall twist all in its way―Caladbolg!_

―Only to falter and leap away when his instincts called to him.

A wind rushed past Veronica and split the fallen snow before turning towards the sky, leaving in its wake a white whirlwind. The deafening noise that followed alerted both the warriors and the Awakened Beings of another individual standing in the snow.

Emiya Shirou lowered his hood. "Are you okay? I'm sorry for being late."

The shocked number thirteen blinked several times before answering. "N-No, it was nothing. I'm fine… thank you for covering me."

Shirou turned towards Rigaldo, whom glared at him.

"A human in the middle of this battlefield? You can only be the recent Red Knight of Rabona."

"And you," said Shirou, "must be Rigaldo the Silver-Eyed Lion King. I've heard a few stories about you. To think I'd have to fight you… this will be troublesome."

"You must be the reason why the yokai of my other soldiers vanished just now." The lion leaned on all fours. "You will be the first I kill here."

"Then here I come. Trace, on.

The image of a hammer of a gun being fired flashed in his mind. His arm raised, and his hand held an imaginary sword. As Rigaldo jumped, Shirou felt twenty-seven of his magic circuits open. His fingers closed upon a tremendous weight.

Rigaldo landed within arm's reach…

"Trigger off.

A clawed hand closed towards his neck…

"Set, Nine Lives Blade Works."

Upper arm, collarbone, windpipe, temple, diaphragm rib, testicles and thigh― he aimed at these targets. In a fraction of a second, the stone-sword lacerated Rigaldo's body. A low groan escaped the lion before one final swing cleaved him along his center. The body fell into pieces on the white snow before the red knight.

Before anyone else could react, Shirou continued, "Removing stops. Continuous fire!"

Swords formed above him and fell into the blizzard, riddling the Awakened Beings like a rain of metal. The ones that avoided the initial volley of blades found themselves pushed back by the Claymore and became the subsequent targets of the heavier torrents of steel.

The assault on Pieta was over before dawn arrived.

Not one Awakened Being reached the east.

* * *

_(Post #1080)_


	4. Abyssal Feeder

**Abyssal Feeder**

* * *

How many of them had he killed? Emiya Shirou had lost track long ago.

They came, as they always did, in a group of eleven. They snapped apart the binds holding their jaws, revealing a mouth full sharp teeth. A single bite could take his whole arm. A swipe from their claws could cleave his torso in half. They were like a pack of wolves would hunt him across the entire land, and him alone.

He smelled them from miles away, the stench of rotten flesh and blood. The scar across his chest he had sustained in his first encounter with them throbbed.

There was no chance of persuasion, no moment of hesitation.

It was fight or die.

Then, the Abyssal Feeders were upon him. They fell from the sky and launched themselves at him, eager to eat his flesh. He wasn't sure how the Organization trained them; perhaps they had obtained his blood during his earliest days here and fed it to them. The Feeders were originally created to hunt the Abyssal Ones, but other targets seemed possible as well.

"Trace, on."

The twin Chinese falchions Kanshou and Bakuya formed in his hands.

His swords flashed, severing the first Feeder that got too close. He cut off its arm and torso in one smooth motion. Another one was in mid-leap.

He split that one too, and the next and the next.

They pounced at him like lions and snapped at him like hyenas. He cut them as they came, keeping them at bay by constantly moving. But no matter how many times he cut them down, the Feeders kept coming. The Feeders' most dangerous trait was not their superior strength or speed but their monstrous regeneration― and their ability to learn.

"Tch." Shirou began to feel the difficulty in fighting for an extended duration. He had cut them apart over forty times, but they continued to dog at him.

He needed to overcome their regeneration.

"Trace, on," he muttered as he threw Kanshou and Bakuya at the Feeders. The image of a golden spear appeared in his mind. His circuits flared. The hammer of a firing gun fell, and, in an instant, the image injected into this world.

Gae Buidhe, the Yellow Rose of Mortality.

Two golden spears fell into his hands, and the slaughter began. When he cut apart a Feeder, its flesh would not return. They fell apart, limbs cut, torso split.

Eventually they all lay in pieces around him.

Shirou sighed. His breathing was slightly heavy from the exertion.

_Gii, giii_. One of the Feeders without legs and an arm crawled towards him. He watched it with pity in his eyes, for one of the warriors in white had told him what the Feeders were. He found it hard to believe they were once human, but, as he watched the Feeder struggle, he saw the uncanny resemblence.

He lashed out with his spear and its head rolled.

Several days later, the men of the Organization found the decimated remains of their Feeders at their doorstep.

From then on the man named Emiya Shirou became their highest priority target.

* * *

_(Post # 1138)_


	5. The Slashers

**The Slashers**

* * *

It was another one of her missions, Clare had explained.

The man whose face was covered in a black cloth ushered Shirou, Clare and Raki inside a small cottage before shutting the door behind them.

Sitting quietly in the small room were three figures.

"You brought others? A man, and a child too?" A Claymore with sharp eyes sprung from her seat on the right side. She glanced at Raki curiously before turning to Shirou. A lecherous smile crossed her expression as she circled him, her eyes tracing his figure as if he were a rare animal. "Hmm. You look good on the eyes. Are you her lover?"

"No. She's an acquaintence," Shirou answered with a frown. He missed the look Clare threw him. "The boy is Raki. We're his guardians."

The stranger was quiet for a moment before a fit of laughter overcame her. "Oh, I see, I see how it is! You three are like a small family, eh? You cook the meals and take care of the kid while she's gone or something?"

Not catching her subtle insults to his manhood, he said, "Yes, I do the cooking."

The stranger's laughter only grew at his answer.

Shirou had gone with Clare much to the dismay of Raki and the chiding of Miria and Deneve. I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, he told Raki. He shrugged off the women's warnings, and ignored another particularly tasteless comment Helen made regarding his relationship with Clare.

It was suffice to say that when he actually cooked for Clare and himself, Helen was distraught. Her stomach grumbling from the smell of Shirou's stew, she begged.

"Please, _please_ let me have some! I-I'll shut up about your sex lives! Please!" A soft spot for hungry blondes still lingering somewhere in his heart, Shirou complied, even as Deneve sighed and shook her head at her comrade's shameless behavior.

"I've decided," said Helen the moment she tasted Shirou's cooking.

Tossing aside her quickly-emptied bowl, Helen jumped on him and kissed him with utter abandon. It took the efforts of the other three Claymore in addition to the magus's reinforced strength to pry the naked number twenty-two away before she could strip him of his clothes. The rest of the night passed too slowly for Shirou.

Climbing over the rocky slopes, Shirou was the first to sense their target. His nose picked up the smell of rotting flesh and blood.

"Clare. It's here," he muttered. She nodded and reached for her sword.

"What? What're you talking about? There's nothing in sight, and there's no yokai here," said Miria from the front. Deneve watched him quietly, standing between Shirou and Helen in case the latter would try anything. Too bad it didn't prevent number twenty-two from shooting at him her lustful glances.

"Please trust him. He has helped me many times before," said Clare.

"―Hello there!" called a voice. They turned to see a man approach them from over the rocks, waving with a bag in his other hand. "I've been waiting for you Claymores."

"Who's that?" asked Helen.

"I'm from the village of Lido. I sent the request. It's great you came so quickly. I'll lead you the rest of the way. Follow me―"

Shirou and Miria struck as one. Their attacks took both the man's arms before he bounded up the cliffside. Their sudden violence shocked Deneve and Helen, but Clare, having traveled with Shirou for so long, quickly assessed the situation and took a position beside them.

Miria clenched her teeth, fighting the fear within her.

"Our information was wrong. That's not an average Voracious Eater. Do they really think we can face something this powerful?"

Miria's words startled Helen. The man transformed, his human figure twisting into a horned creature with numerous limbs. Helen was the first to speak. "This is a male! An Awakened Being is supposed to be a warrior that passed her limits, but this one is a male?"

The monster's jaw opened, and the end of a tongue emerged.

"Look out!" shouted Miria.

The tongue shot faster than the eye could see. But, with his reinforced eyes and body, Shirou responded. The attack bounced off the flats of his swords and he threw them at the Being. They curved through the air, cleanly cutting through the monster's arms and leaving two deep gashes across the cliffside.

"―Trace, on!"

Then there were many more swords. Nameless filled the air before riddling the cliff and cutting the monster into pieces. The pieces fell into the river below, and all signs of the monster was swept away by the current as quickly as the Being came.

A moment passed before someone spoke.

"What… just happened?"

* * *

_(Post # 1142)_


	6. Crimson Agatha

**Crimson Agatha**

* * *

The end seemed near for the city of Rabona.

An octapedal monster towered over the city. Once upon a time, it was the number two of a past generation, Crimson Agatha, but now it was another Awakened Being.

Pinned against a crumbling wall by several appendages piercing her body, a blind sister heard the crying in the rain. She had discarded her eyesight long ago to find a place in a city that rejected Claymore like her. Galatea couldn't protect Rabona herself against Agatha; however, that didn't mean she was willing to sacrifice those that weren't ready to fight for the sake of the city. Dying for the city was her fate alone.

"Quick! Colored hair, take her and get out of here!" screamed Galatea.

Her warning was too late; Agatha attacked, dozens of her appendages swarming towards the two Claymore like a river of vines. Clarice barely recognized the attack until it was centimeters away from killing her.

―Then a sword fell from the sky.

From the tip of its blade to the end of its pummel, the sword was twice as tall as Agatha's entire Awakened form. The sword stabbed the Awakened Being and buried deep into the ground. The tendrils snaking towards the Claymore jerked away from the impact, cutting Clarice's cheek. Following the giant sword, hundreds of smaller swords descended like a rain of metal. Agatha's tendrils twisted to intercept them, but the sheer number of blades launched at such high speeds easily overwhelmed her defense.

Then Shirou appeared, stepping behind Clarice and Miata with a wounded Galatea in his arms. He surveyed the town from his position with glaring eyes.

"I'm gone for _one_ _day_ and the city ends up like this," muttered Shirou. He sounded― even looked― very tired, his armor cracked and his cloak torn at various places. He gently lowered Galatea beside the two Claymore and gave the latter a sharp look. "I'll leave her here. Don't cause any more trouble like before."

Suddenly afraid of her life, Clarice nodded and wrapped her arms around Miata.

The smaller swords penetrating Agatha shook before a torrent of appendages scattered them aside. The soldiers below hid behind their shields to avoid the blades showering them. The noise drew Shirou's attention back to Agatha.

"What the hell is this!?" screamed the Crimson. She extracted a sword that had plunged into her side and flung it as far away as she could.

"_Anti-unit productions ineffective. Anti-army Pantasm ineffective._" Shirou narrowed his eyes as he watched Agatha's wounds recover. "Fighting something of that size requires an anti-fortress phantasm then." Clarice didn't understand what a Phantasm was, but understood the implications enough to shake in fear.

_What he used could destroy armies._

"Trace, on."

The number forty-seven returned to her senses. With uneasiness gripping her heart, she shouted, "Wa-wait! You can't possibly defeat _that_!"

"Just watch me."

A torrent of light gathered at the tip of the sword he held. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be able to use that Noble Phantasm he saw in his youth. But with the aid of the engine humming inside of him, Emiya Shirou had finally surpassed his last weakness.

"Ex―"

The rush of light caught Agatha's attention; she saw a man in a fluttering red cloak wielding a golden sword. She instinctively knew her death was imminent.

"―calibur!"

He swung. The light grew until it engulfed Agatha in her entirety, blaster her with its holy rays until nothing remained. The light pierced the sky and parted the clouds overhead, leaving a bright sky as it faded.

The soldiers below, having witnessed the spectacular light, fell weakly to their knees.

They prayed in thanks at their god's mercy.

"Wow, that was a quite sight!"

Having revealed themselves after Agatha was defeated, four of the seven Ghosts were seated at a table in a cottage in the city with Shirou.

"So, what was that giant light, lover-boy?"As usual, the former number twenty-two was the most talkative of the Ghosts. Her question caught the interest of everyone else present, which made Shirou sigh: why did she still call him _that_?

"It's a sword. It's called Excalibur. It belongs to someone I knew from where I came from." Their eyes silently urged him to continue. Shirou glanced about uncomfortably before doing so. "She was a king in her country. We met each other when I was seventeen. She," his eyes grew distant, remembering that figure bathed in moonlight, "she was beautiful. Her blond hair was always tied up behind her. She was a serious person most of the time, but also had her cute moments. She was brave and honorable―"

"So she's like captain Miria?" interupted Helen.

Shirou stopped. "What?"

"If this person had tied up hair, it would reach around the shoulders, right? Blond hair, like us half-yoma, with a serious and brave personality… that sounds just like the captain."

Deneve chuckled as she listened.

"What are you getting at?" Shirou asked hesitantly.

"Could it be that the reason you're so nice to the captain is because she looks like your old lover? Filling the big ol' hole in your heart with Miria?"

Shirou's palm met his face. Somehow, _somehow_ it always returned to this topic. Clare's gaze drilled into him, the mug in her hand deforming from her grip. Deneve watched coolly from the next table, but he noticed the intensity in the corner of her eyes. Helen snickered, but her hand holding her mug was shaking. The last of the Ghosts present show none of those reactions; unlike her comrades, she wasn't acquainted with Shirou, having met him only once before, and preferred to spectate from the side.

"No. Miria is a capable person. I'm polite to her because I _respect_ her."

"Or maybe," joined Deneve, much to his surprise, "just _maybe_ you're hiding your feelings from the captain. She doesn't hate you, you know?"

"Please don't try to confuse me with vague words."

"Or _maybe_ you're trying to give Miria your best impression." Clare's eyes turned intense from across the table. "You were always that kind of person. Do you remember Ophelia? What had happened with Helen regarding that male Awakened Being years ago? Or the aftermath of that one hunt, when the village girls you saved tried to―"

"Stop! I understand what you're trying to say, so please stop!"

"It's possible that he is actually being polite to the captain," said Uma while she nursed her drink, "and is infatuated with someone else."

Helen blinked before a broad smile crossed her face. "That's right, that's right! You're always surrounded by us beautiful blondes here. Let's say you don't like Miria that way. Which one of us do you _really_ like then?"

His brow twitched. "Screw this, I'm leaving."

Ignoring the calls from behind him, he opened the door― and stopped. Miata stood outside, watching him through her long bangs. Clarice appeared further away, panting heavily. "G-get… back here… Miata. You… you're bothering them."

Instead, Miata hugged Shirou around his middle, burying her face into his cloak.

"Papa!" he heard her say.

All of them were quiet, until Helen behind him said, "Oh, so that's how it is. The guy surrounded by women prefers children."

"No I don't!"

* * *

_(Post #1192)_


	7. Luciela of the South

**Luciela of the South**

* * *

It was only a few months after he had awoken in this world did Emiya Shirou encounter Luciela of the South. Their meeting was purely coincidental; he was wandering the continent looking to save others while she went out for a stroll.

He was a distance away from the nearest village when he smelled the heaviest stench of rotten flesh and blood he had ever encountered. It didn't take him long to associate the smell with the presence of yoma, and the degree of the smell to the yoma's energies, but the overwhelming odor was a first. It was so sickening he nearly threw up his meal.

While struggling to regain himself, he barely noticed the figure closing in from the distance. It was a figure in a long dress covered in ruffles. Her long hair was bunched into two hanging over her left and right shoulders. As she neared him, he noticed her enrapturing eyes, her fair skin and lips, her beautiful hair and **the smell of a yoma flowing from her like water from a monstrous river.**

Shirou fought his sudden weakness. She― _it_― smiled at him softly, and he smiled back.

"Are you alright, mister? You seem pale. Are you ill?" she asked.

Was she playing innocent? Was it a ruse to capture and eat him? He wasn't sure. Whether her intentions were good or not, he decided the best plan was to distance himself from her ―_it_― as quickly as he could. Gathering his strength, he straightened his posture until he stood nearly half a meter taller than her.

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"You're lying." Shirou froze. "Why are you lying to me? You're obviously unwell."

"It's temporary. I'll return to my usual self in no time."

"Aha! So you admit to being ill." She― _it_― folded her arms. "Come with me. I live nearby; I will take care of you until you are well again."

Every one of his senses screamed _no_, but he obviously had no choice.

"I see," he said. "Thank you for your kindness."

She― _it_― paused, as if determining the value in his words, before her smile grew. "Being sincere now? That is good. Follow me."

/

The cottage she― _it_― led him to was a pleasant place. It was small and stood alone, nestled within flowery, colorful hills. Never had Shirou felt so close to death in this world than the moment he stepped into that small cottage.

"You have a pretty home," said Shirou as soon as he examined his surroundings.

There was a table and a few chairs, several pots of flowers and some decorations. It was vastly different from the Japanese-styled residence he lived in back in Fuyuki City, but had a homely feel that made it welcoming. Pausing after hearing his comment, she― _it_― flushed as it closed the door quietly behind it.

"It's not much. Oh, dear me. We never introduced each other, have we? My name is… my name is Rafaela. Pleased to meet you."

"My name is Shirou. Tis an honor, miss," he said. The habit he acquired during his frequent stays at Rabona surfaced; he bowed, as Sid had taught him to do to every woman he met and knew by name. It's just how things are, the young captain had said.

His sudden formality further reddened Rafaela's flush. "Oh, you. That flattery will get you nowhere. Hmm, are you hungry?"

As if on cue, his stomache growled. He cursed at it with every fiber in his being.

She― _it_― giggled. "You stay _right here_ and I'll fix you something up." Then she departed, rounding a corner and disappearing. Her head popped in again, immediately locking on Shirou, before she repeated, "And I mean stay_ here_. My home may seem pretty, but sometimes ugly things happen nearby."

Her― _its_― sweet smile burned into his memory. Did she want him to leave and eat him on account of her warning? Or did she genuinely want him to stay for a while?

Shirou hesitated before placing his supplies neatly to the side. He noticed that Rafaela's scent didn't weaken until he took a seat at the table. She had been waiting for his decision, and it seemed that he made the right one.

For now.

/

It was when Shirou enjoyed a surprisingly well-made meal consisting of bread, beef stew and potatoes did he notice Rafaela staring at him from across the table. It was the kind of curious look one made while feeding a stray dog. He had complemented her cooking for it was better than all he had eaten since he came to this world and knew personally how all chefs wished to be praised, but her eyes lingered. He didn't like the implications.

"Are you not going to eat?" he asked uncertainly.

Snapped out of her trance, Rafaela answered sheepishly, "No, not yet. I'm not hungry yet. I had eatten before I met you, so I'm still full."

Shirou found her difficult to believe, but accepted her excuse.

Finishing his meal, he stood. "Do you need assistance in washing the dishes?"

He didn't wait for an answer; his old habits returning to him, Shirou walked towards the washing bin and soaked his plates. Rafaela shot up. "That's not necessary! You're a guest, so you should lie back and rest!"

"No. You showed me your hospitality, so I should return a bit of the favor."

He was surprised at himself for arguing with the creature.

"Did you not admit you were ill?" huffed Rafaela.

"I did. I also said it was temporary. I felt better after your meal." She recalled his words, and that he had, in fact, said his illness was temporary. She conceded and returned to her seat. But even with his back turned towards her, he felt her― _its_― eyes on him.

He finished quickly. Shirou bowed. "Again, thank you for your hospitality. Now that I am well again, I must depart."

Rafaela leapt onto her feet, catching him before he could leave.

"Ah, erm," she stuttered before clearing her throat. "Where are you headed? It can be dangerous out there… I can escort you. There's not much for me to do around here. If you plan on traveling south, then I'll be glad to accompany you."

Before he remembered who― or _what_― he was talking to, he answered: "No. I don't want to endanger you. You're safer here."

"Then, do promise me you'll visit once in a while."

He didn't want to return, but nodded.

Thus began the first stages of Luciela's 'Shirou-complex.' But _that_ is another story for another time.

_Meanwhile…_

A chill ran down Shirou's spine. As he left the south, a figure in white watched him from the trees. It had seen him depart from Luciela's home earlier that day.

Number four, Ophelia, smiled.

She had found someone interesting to play with.

* * *

_(Post #1203)_


	8. The Twins

**The Twins**

* * *

Shirou had explored the "world" many times by his fifth year after arriving. Alfons, Mucha, and Lautrec were familiar enough that he no longer needed maps to navigate through them. The lands in the east were a different story; since Miria's warnings to him and the ambush by Abbysal Eaters, not once had Shirou set foot in Staff, the territory of the Organization.

He suspected the reason the Organization had not tried to capture him was because his location kept changing. As long as he stayed away from Staff, he would be out of their reach, he assumed. That sense of safety remained until he, while leaving the mountains of Lautrec, encountered two warriors clad in black. He had met a number of the half-human, half-Yoma warriors in his travels, but not these two. And yet, what worried him was not their identity, but how faint their smells were. He had grown accustomed to using smell to detect Yoma and the Organization's warriors. Had he not noticed their swords or uniforms, Shirou would have dismissed the warriors as missionaries.

It was in that instant he realized the two were Claymore that the rotten odor he associated with yoki grew sharply to the point where it overwhelmed his nose.

He didn't notice the nosebleed; his attention was focused solely on the monster standing before him.

"She… awakened?" were his only words.

The Being flew— no, it leapt. The distance between Shirou and the Being disappeared in an instant. With no time to project Kanshou and Bakuya, Shirou drew the sword in the scabbard hanging from his belt— all gifts from Sid and Galk— and reinforced it as much as he could.

_SCREECH!_

He narrowly parried its blade-like limb, feeling his sword vibrate in his hands as sparks and bits of metal flew from where the blade met the limb. The force behind the Being's charge was another matter; his feet left the ground and his body twisted through the air. Acting quickly, he curled his legs before he hit the ground, tumbling until he returned to a croutching position.

There was no need to look up.

He reinforced his entire body and leapt backwards just before the Being could slice him apart. Two words were on his lips before he landed.

"—Trace, on!"

A broken sword clattered onto the ground. Wielding the swords Kanshou and Bakuya in his two hands, Shirou felt relief for only a brief moment. Then, the Being was upon him again, relentlessly swinging at him with its two scythe-like arms, giving him no time to breathe. Under such a relentless assault, Shirou could barely think before he remembered— _there were two of them!_

Gritting his teeth, Shirou lashed out between swings, giving himself breathing room as he desperately searched for the second Claymore only to find that she had not moved an inch.

In fact, her eyes were closed, as if in deep concentration.

_What?—_

Suddenly something white-hot burned a line across his stomach. The Being had taken advantage of his momentary distraction and pushed its cutting limbs into his midsection. Shirou gritted his teeth and plunged his swords downward, nicking the neck of the Being just before it escaped. Was his armor not reinforced, the Being would have cleaved through his mail and abdomen in one motion.

"Fuck!" he cursed. But— why was the other Claymore standing there?

It took little to guess that, despite Awakening, the Being retained a level of human consciousness. If their styles were incompatable they would hardly share a team. _An offensive-support team? Didn't think I'd see one here… although, I don't think her support has anything to do with this one's offensive strength._

—But, maybe?

It was a gamble. His short skirmish against the Being was enough for him to understand how strong it was. To turn his back on it was suicide. But if it worked, his chances would increase.

He dove beneath another swing before running with all his strength towards the other Claymore, throwing Kanshou ahead of him and praying it would hit.

It didn't.

The Claymore, who stood motionless until now, opened her eyes. She dodged the black sword and ran away. No— she was only keeping her distance; this one had no intention of fleeing. The oddity of their tactics weren't enough to distract him again, though. This time, knowing he would not reach the other Claymore, Shirou whirled to meet the Being again. He narrowly deflected the Being's extending limb with Bakuya, grunting even as he bent his knees to absorb some of the impact.

"Shit—!"

Time seemed to slow as the Being closed in. With Bakuya between his torso and a blade, and Kanshou flying through the air, how would he defend himself?

How can he defeat them?

Then he remembered something and felt stupid.

"Trace, on!"

He called the only weapon he had seen, that he knew that could defeat them. He grasped the handle of the weapon in his free hand and swung down at the Awakened Being as it neared.

There was no need to describe the rest of the battle Emiya Shirou had won.

/

"Quite an interesting man, that one."

Rubel surveyed the scene where the battle had taken place. Behind his black shades, his eyes studied the deep gashes in the ground and the craters scattered across the landscape. Bits of Awakened Beings littered the ground. Number one and two, Alicia and Beth, lay unconscious beside each other. Both of their doll-like features bore cuts and bruises.

"Not only did he put the Abyssal Eaters out of commission, but also the completed anti-Abyssal units Alicia and Beth. He even spared their lives."

The fight seemed one-sided at first, but when _those _appeared in his hand, it was over.

"To think he possessed so many of our warriors' swords…" he chuckled as a number of the Organization's men arrived to retrieve the defeated Alicia and Beth. "I should speak with him sometime. He may become a big benefactor for our cause."

And, one day, Rubel did meet Emiya Shirou.

Rubel was never seen again.

* * *

_(Post #1659)_


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